Unwell
by ringbearers-gaurdian
Summary: PreMovie, set before my Blood in the Sand. He's not crazy, he's just...unwell. These are Sands thoughts and accounts of his time in the mental ward after his nervous breakdown from believing Cerise is dead. 1st Person point of view
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I think I might possibly have to much time on my hands...but I'm sure there's someone who's not complaining. ;) This really is my first fill story to be written in a first person point of view, although for time to the time, that might change to third, but I wanted to try something different and I think I can get Sands feelings in better. Also, I know there's mistakes about certain grammer words, I meant it that way

Disclaimer: Don't own Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, he belongs to his respected owners. Don't own Eric Cameron, he belongs to his respected owner, Scarlett Burns, I just occassionally borrow him for my twisted little reasons.

This is dedicated to anyone who's been in Sands...green and red belled christmas socks(which is a place I've been.)

* * *

I'm a sinner. Pure and simple. Or do you need me to space it out for you a bit? Okay, how 'bout this then?

I...(this by the way is a noun)...AM(An adverb!)...A(that other ad-thingy...I think)...SINNER(Verb.)

S.I.N.N.E.R

Is that simple enough for you? Hope so. Let me continue. I'm not the type to pray every day.

I'm not the type to ask God why.

I never stayed in Sunday School... I was to busy out back, gamblin' or smokin'. Maybe even tokin'.

I sure ain't the type to read the bible. Hell, I used the fucking thing as a coster, door stop, fly swatter, just about anything practical I can think of to use it for.

I've never felt guilty about lynin'. After a few years, it became a second nature. Then my job.

I never stopped the pills. I mean fuck that! I had to start popin' just to get through the day with those bunch of fuckers.

I wasn't one to speak to family.

I didn't call friends.

Hell, I wasn't even present at my father's funeral. After all, I still had a HUGE fucking hangover to nurse over. Proceeded to do the whole alcohol binge not but twenty minutes after clearing first base with the great hangover gods.

So when that bright light was shining down on me in that over sterile environment, and my wrists where stinging something awful with that overly, gotta scratch it, feeling but if your nails or indeed the shinny little pocket knife I used to scratch them with the first time, makes contact with their current state, you're gonna bleed all over the overly waxed non descript white tiles with all those little grey specks in them, that gives me a fucking migraine every time I see them, cause they remind me of ink blots that failed to make the cut to the Phsyc's office, the janitor's gonna be all over your ass with that broom of his, cause it took HOURS to polish those textured little fucks to that high gloss shine, and I don't feel like having that broom stuck up my ass, so they can rush me over to next ER room to remove it, while groups of giggling 14 year old Japanese girls stand out in the hall snappin' pictures with their Fuji cameras and are on their Nokia cell phones to their friends, telling the world about how this poor fuck bled all over the slippery little bastards that are SUPPOSED to be floor and got to walk around after wards with bristles of the fuckin' broom out my ass, actin' like a duck tail.

I was forced to let out a hollow laugh as I heard some one to my left(who I believe I know, but I can't be certain at this moment) mutter sadly under their breath, "Two pills too many."

Hey! I personally thought those fuckin' Diazepams rocked my lovely little belled socks... Bloody fuckin' hell! I'm still wearing those belled red and green christmas socks! I can see the green of the toes from where I'm laying. WAIT! My feet!

Whoa..that was close... feet are still attached. For a moment there, I thought... I chuckle softly to myself, oblivious to anything around me.

Until the ugliest face I've ever seen appears over mine. A scaly hand grabs my forehead, jerks my head around. Ooo I catch sight of some people I know. And those fucking giggly girls are gone finally. Then I'm blinded again. I give a cry of rage and pain, flailing a moment. Then I hear this stale voice. "I think he'll live."

Oh, now THERE is a shame. I'm feelin' a bit depressed over that one. Unless of course, this is actually hell. Although, if it is, then some one must REALLY hate me, cause it looks as if my room mates are Sammy Iokie and Eric Cameron.

"Jeff, WHAT were you thinking!" Sammy asks, looking down at me.

I shut my eyes for a moment, cletching my fists. And reply rather slowly, tensely. It's suddenly very hard to put words together, let alone get them out of my mouth. "I...was thinking...how...nice it...would be...not...to...see your...face." I get the prefered response, of Sammy backing off and looking at Eric.

At that moment, the doctor decides to interrupt. "Well you could have killed yourself, Officer."

I roll my eyes, although it seems like it takes twenty mintues just to get them to rotate, and mutter. "That...was...the...idea..."

Then Eric had to speak up. "It was stupid, Jeff." I turn my head and glare daggers at him, gritting my teeth.

"Well, I think we can fix that problem." The doctor cuts in again. "We're sending you up stairs to the seventh floor and checking you into the psychiatric unit. There's silence in the room, all I could hear was the ticking of a clock. Everyone was standing around blinking, except for me of course... who was laying on the gurney blinking. Then I moaned out loud, shutting my eyes.

"Aww...shit..."


	2. It Begins

A nurse and a big guy named Cid walked me up to the psychiatric unit. I've tried to strike up a conversation with them, but the nurse, she's a young thing, seems more interested in patting my arm and telling me everything is going to be fine. Sid...he just keeps giving me one of these looks. Okay, okay, I know when I'm not liked...

The elevator doors open and I see there's this banner over the doors, says 'Welcome to A Peaceful Rest'. Yeah, uh, I don't feel that welcomed. These doors, mind you, are keypad locked. The murse goes over and begins punching in the code. I discretely watch the nurse punch in the code. In this way, I'll be out of here in two hours. Cid's eyeing my evil grin suddenly and try to give him my most innocent smile.

They lead me in and down a hall. And then, all hell broke lose. There stood Satan! And he's a a hawked nosed harpy of a nurse, who dies her hair black. She's standing there, in front of the nurse's station with a pitch fork and a twitching tail.

Okay, those last two things I was lyin' about. However, I can assure you, I was rooted to my spot. Her steely eyes racked over my bandaged wrists and blood stained jeans. And then Nurse Ratchet gave me a smile that chilled me to the bone and beyond, and she pulled a Florance Nightengale, by taking me by the shoulders and arm, those red talon nails closing in my skin. I looked at them then at her as she said to me, "Come along deary, and we'll get you settled in and comfortable."

"Lady, you couldn't make a comatose patient comfortable!" I reply, trying to pull out of her grasp. Those nails tightened on my arm and I grimace. She never lost that smile. "Come along, you've had a rough night." She said, beginning to drag me down the hall. I attempt to dig my heels into the carpet, which was a disgusting orangish color, and look over my shoulder at the nurse and Cid. I can swear that Cid waved at bye bye to me.

Nurse Ratchet took me to a room at the end of the hall, and watched me like...well a harpy. She was just in the middle of explaining the nurse call light in the bathroom, when Sammy arrives in the door way of my room. Nurse Ratchet eyed him and I was pretty sure she was going to run him through with her pitchfork. "Can I help you?" She demands. "Visiting him." Sammy points to me as I stand there with my hands behind my back and smiling in a confused befuddled sort of way. "I see." She sends me a glare and leaves the room.

"Lookie! I got a nurse call light." I point to the little switch next to the toilet, looking at him expectedly. Sammy is peering at me with one of those looks. And he like everyone else, takes me by the arm and leads me over to the bed and sits me down. "You're crazy Jeff." I look at him for a long moment, then shrug. "Yeah, we know that." I reply softly. I sigh in the silence, my hands resting the table. I look at him, then at the bag he's carrying. "Is that my stuff?" I ask cheerfully.

"Yes Jeff." Sammy replies, sitting the bag on the bed next to me. I grab it and pull it over, unzipping, going through the contents. "No smokes?" I ask, looking at him. "Oh fuck you, you're not allowed to smoke." Sammy replies irritably. "Oh, I'm the ONE with the bandages on my wrists, so don't you get irritable with me." I reply, giving him a look and dumping my bag on the floor next to the bed.

I get up out of the bed and go over to the window, opening the blinds and looking out at the night, as snow hit the windows. I hate November, I hate the bloody holidays...oh fuck! I'm starting to use her slang. I hit my forehead on the cold window, shutting my eyes. I don't NEED this right now.

I start to take the bandage off one of my wrists, when Sammy touches my shoulder. "Jeff, you don't need to be doing this." I look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do what?" I feign innocence. Sammy sits on the window ledge. "This, Jeff." He motions to my wrists, then gives me another look. "And lets not forget the drugs." I turned my eyes back to the night outside and the snow. "Drugs are for those who can't handle reality." I mutter softly. Sammy's watching me in silence.

"I need a fucking cigarette!" I growl, moving away from the window finally. I crept over to the door, stuck my head out in the hall, and looked up and down it, for Satan. I'm about to turn and head for the balcony outside, hearing Sammy moving behind me, when I come face to face with some girl, who's just standing there staring at me. With out blinking...

I stare back at her. And she continues to stare me. I blink, and try to step around her. But she steps infront of me. I step to the other direction, and she follows me. "Okay..." I muter before turning back into my room. Sammy's giving me an amused look. I glare at him, "You can leave now." I growl at him. Sammy just shook his head. "What ever Jeff, I'll be back in the morning." I eyed the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and as he passed me, I liberated them, stashing them in my own pocket. "Get some rest Jeff, I'll see you tomorrow." He says at the door. "Yeah yeah." I waved him out, shutting my door.

Taking the pack of cigarettes from my pocket I opened the pack and was happy to see there was a lighter in it. Not a full pack, but enough for tonight. Waiting for twenty mintues, I snuck out of my room again, the girl wasn't around and neither was Nurse Ratchet. I went up through the rec room, to the balcony door and turned the lock, and going outside in the blistering cold, with out my jacket.

The drugs had long since worn off, even the pain medication. But the cold was comforting, strangely. I went around out of sight of the windows and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as the snow fell and mused bitterly about the fact that there was a tall fence around the perimeter of the balcony. Cause I would have liked to have thrown myself off, the way I was feeling now.


End file.
